


Fallen Stars

by Houjicha



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Crisis, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild body horror?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Persona 5 Protagonist Has A Palace, Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicidal Thoughts, ao3 please put my tags in order, intimacy issues, royal bad end au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houjicha/pseuds/Houjicha
Summary: After graduating high school as a celebrated teenage detective, Goro isn’t sure how he wants to spend the next year. But when he begins having strange nightmares, the mystery behind them is too fascinating not to investigate. Even if he may not like everything he finds.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	1. Meet Me In the Garden

Somehow, Goro knows today will be a good day. 

It isn’t a thought he’s accustomed to having. But after waking up to the soft rays of morning sunlight falling through his window, tinted ever so slightly pink by the cherry blossoms promising a season of new beginnings, it’s difficult not to see some hope for the future.

After a few more minutes with his eyes closed, the sunlight reaches his face and forces him to acknowledge it’s probably time to get up. He doesn’t often sleep in this late, but until recently, he hasn’t really had the opportunity to choose. With a deep breath, he flings off the covers all at once, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and grabs his phone to check the time. 8 am. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slides his feet into a pair of house slippers and shuffles over to the kitchen. He’s been sleeping heavier lately; if the past few weeks were any indication, it’ll be a little while before he’s fully functional. And to that end, the first step is coffee.

Making his own is a recent change, too. He used to power through the mornings on sheer determination (and, when he was truly desperate, an energy drink from 777), but with more time has come deeper sleep, with deeper sleep has come slower mornings, and with the slower mornings he’s finally started taking the time to brew his own. He knows there’s a way to make it without that dirty, bitter aftertaste, although his experiments haven’t yielded much luck so far. This morning’s brew is not the eureka moment, unfortunately, but he’s certainly made worse. 

After a light and leisurely breakfast spent scrolling through the news, Goro takes a bit of extra time fixing his hair and choosing something appropriately special to wear without being overly formal. Today is a bit warm for a sweater, but a blue button-up should do. And once that’s taken care of...he’s not quite sure what to do next.

If his life for the past year was like driving on the highway, these past few weeks have been the approach to a red light, and finding himself with time to kill is the lurch of the brakes bringing him to a hard stop. For the first time, it hits him, really hits him, that his upcoming lunch date today is the last thing on his calendar. The future is completely open.

He steps back from the mirror, catches a glimpse of the laptop on his desk--a brand-new graduation gift--and sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Okay, so there _is_ one more thing he technically needs to do. 

...Later.

He heads to the door and grabs his jacket off the hook. 

\------

The Tokyo sky is clear and blue with only a few fluffy clouds for interest, and the walk to the station is just cool enough that the walk leaves him comfortably warm instead of sweaty. His timing is perfect; the train pulls in just as he’s arriving on the platform, and it even has a few seats open. He sits down, crosses his legs, and retrieves a small paperback novel from his jacket’s inner pocket to pass the time until the announcement signals that Shibuya station is next.

When he steps off the train, the platform is a little more crowded than usual this late on a weekday, but it’s nothing like the morning commute, of course. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a girl lean over to another girl, who turns to look at him. He tilts his head and smiles; they smile back with sheepish giggles. One of them raises her hand in front of her chest in a half-wave, and then they hurriedly put their heads together again, presumably to share their excitement about catching a glimpse of the Detective Prince in person. Well, let them whisper.

There are plenty of ways to kill time here in Shibuya, but after almost half an hour of wandering, he realizes he’s wandered all the way to Yoyogi Park. The cherry trees are in full bloom out here, too, and quite a few families have already arrived with picnic blankets to spend the day celebrating and appreciating the view. As Goro continues down the footpath, a distracted little girl runs out in front of him and nearly bumps into his legs, but Goro quickly steps out of the way. The girl’s mother calls to her, then gives Goro an apologetic smile that quickly turns into pleasant surprise. Goro simply smiles back, but doesn’t stop. The chances of being recognized again out here are relatively high, but he hasn’t been accosted for autographs as often lately now that Phantom fever is officially over.

He wanders away from the densest crowds and finds an open bench beneath one of the heavy pink branches. The wood is a little chilly as he pulls out his novel again, but the comfortable mix of sunlight and shadow keeps him warm. 

\------

Fifteen minutes to noon, his phone buzzes.

**Ann Takamaki**

_you’re still coming today, right??_

Goro fires back a quick reply. 

**Ann Takamaki**

_Yes, I’m on my way now._

_20 minutes at most._

_good!!_

_just wanted to make sure_

_see you in a few!_

He slides his phone back into his pocket and stretches his back before getting to his feet and starting the walk to Harajuku station. 

The invitation to the Phantom Thieves’ graduation party came as a total surprise, and to be honest, he isn’t sure whether he’s looking forward to it or not. He had only intended to stop by Shujin to congratulate the recent graduates, but after he was roped into taking a picture with them, one thing led to another. Makoto and Haru had plans to spend the rest of the day with their families, but the following Saturday was for the Phantom Thieves and now, apparently, their secret collaborator.

He wasn't thrilled about going somewhere as public as the hotel buffet with them, but nobody knew their true identities except him. The public had largely moved on from both the Phantom Thieves and the Detective Prince, so realistically, the worst he could expect was a few autograph requests. And if anyone did still care enough to ask questions, his connection with Makoto would be easy enough to explain.

The lobby is relatively empty when he steps inside, and he doesn’t even have to pay when he mentions he’s with the Okumura party. He spots them immediately, and he’s relieved to find almost everyone is already there. Goro makes every effort to be on time, but when he’s meeting a group of friends who aren’t fully his friends, “on time” is when they’ve already settled into their rhythm somewhat and he can just tack himself on the outside where he belongs. It appears he’s overcompensated, however; there are only two empty places to sit at the large table by the stairs, and neither of them are easy to get into and out of. 

Ann is the first to notice him, and she waves at him with her whole arm from her huge chair at the left end of the table. “Goro! Over here!” 

Goro keeps as much tension as he can out of his smile as the others look up from their phones and conversations to say hello. Technically, he never agreed to the first name basis, but a full day has passed since that ship sailed too fast for him to stop it. “Hello...Ann. Sorry I’m late. Getting out of the house this morning took longer than I thought.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it! Ryuji only just got here, and one’s gone to ‘plan his attack.’” Ann folds her arm and huffs. “Ugh, seriously, where did he go?”

Goro realizes who’s missing and assumes he’s occupying the seat between Futaba and Ryuji. Meaning Goro will be wedging himself into the sofa with the other two graduates. Dammit. He was counting on at least Ryuji to be more than five minutes late. 

He circles around to Makoto and Haru. “Congratulations again. Should I go ahead and pay you now, or…?”

Haru quickly waves her hand. “No, no! It’s completely covered,” she says with a smile. “I’m sorry if I didn’t mention it yesterday; we would never make everyone pay for such an expensive lunch.” Her eyes briefly dart over to Yusuke, who has his picture-frame fingers up around Ann and the opulent decor behind her. 

“And you just graduated, yourself,” Makoto adds. “This is as much your party as it is ours.”

“Yeah, these celebrations are like a Phhhh--” Ryuji catches himself as almost every eye at the table shoots him a warning glare. “...Tradition. It’s just kind of a thing for us now.”

“Well, in that case...thank you,” Goro replies. Even after their time working together, he still feels a buzzing sense of anxiety at every inclusive gesture, and climbing awkwardly over the arm of the sofa only adds to the feeling of being trapped. Once he settles in, he finds himself face to face with Kasumi.

“Good to see you again, Goro-san,” she chirps. “Congratulations.”

The distance of "-san" is strangely reassuring. “Thank you,” he replies with a friendly smile. “It’s nice to see you again as well.”

“Finally!” Futaba says, looking up from her phone as the dark-haired boy pulls out the chair next to her. “What were you doing, casing the whole hotel? We’re retired, you know.”

“Hmph. I was just taking a look around. How often do you get to explore a fancy hotel like this? And I wasn’t even gone that long.”

“Oh my god, you literally were casing the joint.” Ann giggles.

“Not you too, Lady Ann!” Morgana protests. "On my honor as a gentleman, I was only exploring."

"Layin' it on a little thick, aren't you?" Ryuji rolls his eyes.

“Well, we’re all here now,” says Makoto, before they can get too distracted. “And we’ve only got a couple hours, so let’s make the most of them, shall we?”

\------

When Goro checks his phone, he's a little surprised to find it's 1:29.

“So school’s starting up again in a couple weeks, right?” Futaba says, gesturing with a dessert fork. “Well, I can’t believe I never brought it up before, but technically, Kasumi is gonna be _my_ senpai!”

Kasumi’s eyes widen in surprise, and she genuinely seems unable to respond. 

“I think you broke her,” Ryuji laughs. “You okay, Kasumi?”

“...You’re right! I can’t believe I never realized it until now.” Kasumi nervously sweeps her bangs out of her face. “Oh gosh, that’ll take some getting used to.”

“Congratulations, Kasumi,” Haru says with a little giggle.

“Surely you didn’t expect to be a kouhai forever,” Yusuke comments.

Futaba laces her fingers together on the table and leans over with an austere presence. “Use your powers wisely...Kasumi-senpai.”

“Stooooop!”

The table dissolves into laughter, and the conversation peters out for a few moments. 

“Hey, Goro, I’ve been wondering...” Ann finally says between bites of strawberry shortcake. “You mentioned getting a job for your gap year--what kinda job were you thinking?”

And there it is--the topic Goro just began to hope might never come up before this was over. 

“Yeah, I bet Makoto’s sister could get you a job anywhere you wanted,” Ryuji chimes in.

Makoto rolls her eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Ryuji. There has to be an open position, and if you want to create one, you have to--”

“Sae-san has already offered me an internship, actually,” Goro interrupts. “At the prosecutor’s office.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Kasumi's face lights up with a smile. 

“That’ll give you a leg up in law school for sure,” says Ryuji.

“Along with, y’know, working as a consulting detective in high school,” Morgana says airily, leaning back and folding his arms.

Goro takes another moment to debate how he wants to handle this, and he finally decides to just tell the truth. It’s usually the best approach, anyway. “I’m thinking about turning it down, actually.”

“...Why?” Makoto asks.

“You mentioned an interest in freelance work,” Yusuke says. “Am I right in assuming an internship is too restrictive?”

Yusuke isn’t too far off the mark, but not quite in the way Goro assumes was intended. 

For one thing, the past year has already been enough of an internship--he’s seen enough of the legal system to have disillusioned himself.

The realization came as quite a shock, frankly. From the time he solved the mystery of his disappearing coin collection back in elementary school, his insatiable curiosity as a child had led him to seek the truth wherever he could find it. When he started helping with more serious cases, the thrill and the knowledge that he was doing good in the world had been intoxicating. He had seen a world full of darkness and himself as the light revealing everything hidden underneath. But now that he’s seen the injustice within the system, the corruption at high levels of power, the ways truth could be twisted and abused...he isn’t so eager to rush into it headlong.

As much as he enjoyed it, a career as a detective was never a dream of his; the whole thing was essentially a giant confluence of right places and right times. And as for what his dream really is...well, it’s been so long since he slowed down long enough to _think_. He’s been swept downriver for so long that he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s on the shore. The only thing he does know is that he isn't ready to dive back in.

Goro looks around the table. Makoto is going into pre-law, Haru will be studying business. Ryuji intends to go for a track scholarship, Ann is modeling, and Yusuke is doing art. Kasumi will be continuing with gymnastics. Futaba will be starting at Shujin in just a couple weeks, but everyone knows she has a future in computer science. The only one without a set path is Morgana, and sharing a lack of aspirations with the Sakura family's resident freeloader is little comfort.

So what about him?

...What _about_ him?

“I’m taking the gap year because I spent my last year studying and working close to full time, so an internship would somewhat defeat the purpose,” Goro tells them, resting his hands on the table and lacing his fingers together. “As Makoto said, I think my recent experience should be enough to recommend me in the future if I choose to pursue that line of work.”

“Does that mean you aren’t planning to pursue that line of work?” Haru asks. 

“It means I need to do something else before I know whether that’s the line of work I want to pursue,” Goro replies.

“Do you have any ideas so far?”

“Honestly, I haven’t had much time to really sit down and work through them. I was even considering some kind of part-time job, but there are other factors to consider.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Ann rests her elbows on the table and her chin on one hand. “Oh! Your English is already really good, so you could totally do, like, a working holiday in Europe or something.”

Goro smiles. “That possibility has crossed my mind, too. I’ll have to do more research, though.”

No more suggestions are forthcoming after that, and Goro is grateful. They can’t relate--he knows they can’t, and he would rather they all just moved on from this instead of reminding him that despite their position as outcasts less than a year ago, their futures are comfortably locked in in a way his just can’t be yet.

Finally, Morgana waves a hand dismissively and jump-starts the conversation again. “Not everyone needs a job. Working is overrated, in my opinion.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Futaba raises a hand for a high-five, and Morgana obliges.

Yusuke pops a cake ball into his mouth. “Morgana, I can’t help but notice you only began decrying the evils of capitalism after Boss started asking you to help him at the cafe.”

"You can't just sit around lookin' cute, y'know!" Futaba gives Morgana's shoulder a little poke. "I’m just glad I’m starting school soon. Sojiro’s gonna have to find someone else to learn the ways of the coffee bean.”

“Oh!” Kasumi claps her hands together. “Well, if Goro-san is looking for a part-time job…”

Ryuji snorts. “Getting the Detective Prince as a part-time barista is one way to drum up business, I guess.”

“Haha,” Goro laughs politely. “I think that time has passed. And even if employing me did happen to have some effect, he may not appreciate the influx of customers.”

“Bet Boss would scare ’em away, anyway.”

“Who would win--a grumpy, chain-smoking old man, or one pretty boy’s army of fangirls?” Futaba waggles her fingers. “Ready, fight!” 

“Haha,” Goro laughs politely again, checking the time on his phone again and noticing a missed call. “Oh, sorry--could you excuse me a moment?” He gives them a little wave with the phone and starts clambering over the arm of the sofa. 

They respond with a variety of acknowledgments as he extricates himself and makes his way over to a relatively unoccupied corner of the lobby. He doubts it's urgent, but he could use the break anyway.

He hits the call button, and the phone rings twice.

_“Hi, honey. How was lunch with your friends?”_

“Not technically over yet, but it’s been nice so far.” Despite the social fatigue setting in, Goro is surprised to find he kinda means it. 

_“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt! I just wanted to let you know we’ll be home a little later than we expected. You may need to fend for yourself this evening.”_

“That’s fine. I may not need to eat again until tomorrow anyway.” Goro laughs a little and leans back against the wall.

_“Haha, all right. You can stay out with your friends if you want--just let me know if you’re coming home late.”_

“I’m sure I’ll be home before too long.”

_“You’ve got plenty of time now…”_

“ _Okay_ , okay.” Goro huffs affectionately. “Point taken. I will enjoy my time with my friends.”

_“Good. Love you, honey.”_

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Goro taps the red button to end the call and rolls his eyes a little, smiling. 

Nobody was more delighted at the conclusion of the Phantom Thieves case than his mother. She had never been comfortable with the number of hours he was pulling between work and school, and she had always done her best to ensure he was at least eating and sleeping some. Even his presence at the Wilton Hotel buffet was due to her concerns about his social life; she only knew the Phantom Thieves as “his friends from Shujin” and had encouraged him to go stop by the graduation ceremony before. He had tried to counter that they weren’t really friends, although he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly gave him that impression. Their whole partnership was a bit of a blur now, and Goro was surprised at how little he remembered of it beyond vague impressions. Mom was right; he hadn’t been sleeping enough.

The gap year might have been her idea, too. In January, shortly after the Prime Minister and several other high-ranking officials were finally indicted for various forms of corruption, he’d been forced to acknowledge that he couldn't focus on both the case and his entrance exams, and he’s pretty sure she was the one who had encouraged him to let go of the latter.

She was right, in any case. She always was. Goro had put in an unbelievable amount of work to get to this point, liaising between the secret work of the Phantom Thieves, the police, the media, and his father and his political connections, but he had pulled it all off flawlessly. He had still graduated at the top of his class, and if his mock exams were any indication, he would have gotten into any school he wanted. As long as he kept his mind sharp, Tokyo University would be falling over itself to have him as a student even after a year. As the Diet member leading the charge to indict, Masayoshi Shido was the hero of Japan--some were even calling for him to be the next Prime Minister--but everyone knew none of it would have been possible without the contributions of his son. 

The path to success could not have been paved more clearly. But the truth was...he just couldn’t see himself at an elite university, just as he couldn’t see himself doing legal work. Or anything else, for that matter. Studying, traveling, planning for the rest of his life--none of it. For whatever reason, he felt as if the future had just...snuck up on him. Jumped around a blind corner and latched onto him somehow, like an alien creature his mind couldn’t quite parse.

Some people might find it easy not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but Goro is the type to do a full examination given the opportunity. He’s always been that way. That refusal to take anything at face value is what makes him so good at what he does.

He wants to be grateful for it, for all of it, but sometimes, the past feels almost as unfathomable as his future. Like an endless black void that he’s simply drifting through untethered. Just thinking about it makes his stomach flip.

He shoves his phone in his jacket pocket, sighs, and walks back across the floor to the former Phantom Thieves. It’s just been a while since he’s had so many options; he'll find his way. He always does.

After lunch officially comes to an end, it still takes a while for everyone to say their goodbyes. No one is leaving Tokyo, so they could theoretically meet up again whenever their schedules aligned. Still, they all know it may be some time before they have a reason to get the whole group together like this again. Goro is less bothered by this than the others, but the shoulder nudge and "Keep in touch, okay?" from Ann is just a little reassuring.

Goro spends the afternoon back in Shibuya and finds a new restaurant to try. The food is fine, but he feels he paid more for the atmosphere than the soba. 

And when he arrives back home, the laptop is still there, waiting for him to open it and start looking for the rest of his life.

He sighs, pulls out his desk chair, and sits down. 

_Sae-san,_

_I appreciate the opportunity you've offered me with regards to an internship at the station. After quite a bit of deliberation, I wanted to let you know I've chosen to decline. It wasn't an easy decision, but ultimately, I believe this year will be best spent expanding my field of experience to other arenas._

_It's been a pleasure working with you, and perhaps we may get the chance again some day._

_Best regards,_

_Goro Shido_

His finger hovers for a moment before he presses "Send."

His parents know about the offer, but not about his decision. Not consulting with them will have consequences, but he would rather face that then let himself be talked into this. Plus, he's already graduated high school. He can choose for himself.

Still, after he cuts off that particular future, he collapses facefirst into his pillow and decides to just go to bed early. Tonight, he'll get some good sleep, and then he'll be ready to face whatever comes next.

\------

_He awakens in a luxurious suite, between sheets of red satin and a comforter embroidered with gold. The mattress is soft, but not too soft, and the blankets are comfortably heavy without leaving him sweaty. He rolls over, and might have fallen asleep again if it weren’t for the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat and the stickiness on his tongue._

_The light streaming through the sliding glass door is wrong for morning--more like the bile yellow of a polluted city sunset. It looks like his mouth tastes._

_Blearily, he tries to swallow and sit up in the enormous mattress without losing his arms in the sea of crimson pillows around his head. As the comforter slides down, the cold air of the room hits his bare arms and chest, and he shivers. It’s with some effort that he pushes aside the covers and swings his legs free. At least a pair of warm, white slippers is waiting on the floor, and a fluffy white robe has been laid within easy reach across a nearby chair._

_Once he’s protected from the cold, he stands, swaying a bit unsteadily, and shuffles over to the small kitchenette and turns the faucet. He feels the temperature with his fingers until it runs cold, then fills his glass. The first gulp of water is far from refreshing, and he swishes the second around in his mouth to help him spit out that taste. Instead, his saliva now tastes like bile and metal._

_Wrinkling his nose, he bends over and opens the mini fridge beneath the counter, hoping to find something else to drink inside. A row of bottles, all unlabeled. He hesitates a moment, considering what will be best, when he feels a wet drip on his sleeve. He looks up to find the faucet is not only still running, but the sink is apparently clogged so badly that it’s already started to overflow. Odd--did he forget to turn it off?_

_Annoyed, he twists the knob, but nothing happens in either direction. He twists harder, and the knob just breaks off in his hand._

_The water is pouring over the edge now, soaking his slippers. He hisses in frustration and steps back, shaking his foot--and then he notices the stains on the fabric._

_They’re red._

_When he looks back up at the faucet, the water streaming from it, in impossible amounts now, is thick and syrupy and crimson._

_As the smell of iron hits like a wave, he feels more drops hitting his head, and the small red dots appearing on his sleeve tells him what they are._

_He kicks off his slipper and immediately regrets it; the carpet is cold and wet against his sole, and the liquid oozes between his toes. And then it starts climbing up his shins._

_He struggles toward the window, but the resistance against his legs is growing with every step, and though he resolutely doesn’t look down, he can hear the sloshing as he wades through the ever-rising sea of blood. It’s streaming from his hair, into his eyes, stinging and blinding._

_And then he’s mercifully at the exit, scrabbling at the latch and tearing the door open just as the sea reaches his chin._

_The tide washes him onto the concrete balcony and nearly carries him over the edge into a roiling sea below. He digs his fingers in hard enough to tear his fingernails, but he manages to hang on as the overflow pours on and around him like a waterfall. He fixes his grip to something less painful and tries to pull himself up, escape to one of the neighboring rooms, but they’ve already filled up, too. His only path of escape is down, but the water has already swallowed the city. This ship is the only safe haven left. If he lets go, he will die._

_But his choice was made long ago._

_The ship shudders violently as an explosion rocks the lower decks. Then another, and another, rising closer and closer. His desperate grip isn’t enough, and his fingers tear free._

Oh. _He remembers as he plummets toward the surface of the sea._ The ship was always going to sink.

\------

Goro jolts awake with a gasp. 

His back cracks as he stiffly pushes his head off his arms, and he gently rolls his shoulders a bit to relieve the tension in his neck.

The room is dark, but he recognizes his sleeping place as his usual spot at Leblanc’s counter.

 _That’s strange_ , he thinks. _Why didn’t Boss wake me up when he closed for the night?_ In fact, he doesn’t even remember going to Leblanc at all. He hasn’t come here in ages.

Still recovering from his unusual position, he turns in his chair and stands, intending to check the time. He doesn’t want to disturb Boss unnecessarily, but neither does he want to leave the door unlocked until morning.

A glint of blue light catches his eye, over by the percolator. 

His eyebrows furrow doubtfully as he tries to parse what he’s seeing. A...fairy? Is he seeing fairies now?

No, he realizes, though the glittering motes of light around it are deceptive. It’s a butterfly.

Apparently noticing him, the translucent blue phantom flutters over to his head. He can hear a soft whispering, but it’s impossible to tell what she’s saying.

After a circle around his head, the butterfly retreats toward the bathroom, where it hovers expectantly.

“Am I supposed to follow you?”

He has no way of deciphering the susurrus that comes in reply, but curiosity has already gotten the better of him. What could be of interest back there? Surely not something so cliche as a secret passage?

No, it’s far simpler--and yet far more surprising.

Goro has been a regular for months--a regular who also happens to be somewhat famous for his powers of observation and insight. He’s used the bathroom by the wall plenty of times,

So how is it that he’s never noticed the stairs?

It occurs to him that this might be another dream--it would explain Boss’s strange behavior and the supernatural phenomenon he’s clearly supposed to follow into Leblanc’s mysterious second floor.

When he puts his foot on the bottom step, the staircase seems normal enough. But with each subsequent step, the top doesn’t appear to get any closer--instead, the darkness at the top lightens gradually into gold. 

The wooden railing under his hand turns round and smooth, and then smooth and knobbly, and he realizes it’s no longer a railing at all, but the root of a tree. They’re crawling all along the walls and down the steps at his feet, too.

He carefully navigates around them the rest of the way to the landing and into a sea of golden light.

The light is blinding, as if the air itself is the source--or maybe the radiant motes are simply so thick in the air they’ve created a light-emitting haze. He squints against it and starts breathing a bit more shallowly. It’s a bit like inhaling a cloud of powdered sugar, except the taste is more like honey. He expects to start coughing, but the feeling in his chest is just warm. Not pleasant, exactly, but not irritating enough to hinder breathing.

As his eyes adjust, he can make out the trees of the garden in which he apparently stands.

 _I suppose this confirms I’m in another dream,_ Goro observes. _I doubt Boss was secretly hiding an entire grove of trees in his attic._

“ _Welcome to my garden_ ,” says a male voice. It’s soft and smooth, like a latte sweetened with caramel. _“Do you like it here?”_

Goro inhales to answer, and that honey flavor dissolves across his tongue again. The tickle in his lungs nearly makes him cough this time, but the moment soon passes in silence. He chooses to keep it that way.

“ _Don't worry_ ,” the voice finally says. _“You’re not doing anything wrong being here. You’re welcome to anything here; stay as long as you like.”_

Goro nods, unsure if the owner of the voice can hear him. 

The haze is thick, so he can’t tell if the one speaking is hidden by the trees or the low visibility, or if he’s even corporeal.

Tentatively, he wanders forward among the trees. He notices there are all kinds--the garden is far too diverse to be natural. Fig trees, persimmons, cherries, peaches, plums, kumquats--in fact, every tree seems to be a different species, and all of them are apparently in season. Even if he were inclined to take food from a mysterious garden in the attic of Leblanc, he wouldn't even know where to start.

_“Oh, you’re welcome to have some, if you want. In fact, I insist. Please, take anything!”_

For some reason, the encouragement has the opposite effect. Until he’s sure the voice actually has his best interests in mind, best to take its suggestions with a grain of salt. Instead, he chooses to explore a little deeper.

The more he progresses, the thicker the haze becomes, until it feels like the air on a particularly muggy August day, only with honey instead of heat and humidity. Just as Goro starts to consider turning back before he can no longer breathe at all, he sees the shadow of something gargantuan just beginning to take shape. A few more steps, and he realizes it must be another tree, at least three or four times the height and breadth of any of the others. _Alright_ , he decides. He’ll see what this is about, but he’ll go no further than this.

He can’t even tell what type of tree it is until he’s nearly underneath its broad canopy, weighed down with an unfamiliar red fruit the size of softballs. He nearly reaches up for one to get a better look--but then he notices what else is unusual about this tree, and the floor seems to tilt away under his feet.

As a detective, he’s seen his fair share of disturbing sights--but something about this seems to reach directly into his stomach and send ice into his blood.

Against the trunk, a black-haired boy is bound by thick vines around his wrists, ankles, and torso, holding him in an artistic Y shape against two large lower branches. Another vine is wound around his eyes, his messy bangs falling over it like a curtain, and another around his mouth like a gag. Together, they almost completely obscure his face.

_Is he dead?_

Goro tentatively steps closer to investigate. The boy’s head is tilted forward at an uncomfortable-looking angle, which is soon explained by the vine apparently pushing it forward to attach at the base of his neck, while small green tendrils pulse beneath the skin of his neck and down near his shoulders. Goro briefly imagines each pulse sucking blood and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

He would have to be dead, if those things were indeed sucking him dry--but no, he realizes. The boy’s chest is rising and falling, albeit faintly. Something about the whole picture almost looks like an old European painting, or a sculpture. Maybe it’s the boy’s David-like musculature.

 _“Ah…”_ The disembodied voice is back, and this time it reminds Goro of a customer service representative about to deliver some bad news. _“Sorry, I...might have misspoken earlier.”_

Goro furrows his brows, but waits for the explanation.

 _“You can have_ almost _anything here. That tree, you want to stay away from.”_

The twinge in Goro’s chest upon seeing the boy is swelling into an ache. Pressure, like an ill-fitting key trying to turn in a lock. “Why?”

_“Uh...well, the fruit has some unusual effects. Really...really terrible effects. Especially for you.”_

“Effects like what?”

The voice lets out a small sigh. _“I can’t tell you that.”_

“Why not?”

_“Because it may have the same effect as eating it.”_

“...What?”

_“It’s complicated, but the bottom line is...you'll die. Trust me. That’s all you need to know.”_

Goro frowns. “Did you not just tell me, then?”

The voice sighs. ". _..I suppose you could say that.”_

“Is that what happened to him? He’s not dead.”

_“I understand having these questions, I really do. But this way is best for everyone. Sometimes it’s better to just leave well enough alone.”_

Goro wonders if this figure has any idea who he’s talking to--he’s never left well enough alone in his life. “Not for me,” he replies firmly. “I’ve only gotten as far as I have because I care about the truth.” Tentatively, he reaches out to trace his fingers along the vine covering the boy’s eyes, gently sweeping his hair away. _Who are you? Who did this to you? Why?_

He needs to _know_.

And...he's not sure how, but he can tell that this was what that butterfly meant for him to find. This is where he’s meant to be--he's sure. And it’s been so long since he’s been sure about anything.

_If the gardener’s explanation would have the same effect as this fruit...does that mean this is some kind of tree of knowledge?_

He reaches up and pulls a fruit from the tree, and it’s shockingly heavy in his palm. _The same weight as a handgun_ , he realizes, although he has no idea why his brain even thinks it could know that. 

_“I’m serious!”_ The voice sounds a bit more panicked now. _“You’ll never be able to come back!”_

So which is it? Will he know, will he die, or will he just have to leave this place?

_"Don’t do this to yourself, Akechi-kun!”_

Goro freezes and looks up instinctively, although he knows there’s no one there. Who the hell is Akechi?

This is all too suspicious--the threat of death feels like nothing more than a desperate bid to keep him from doing the thing his heart is telling him he should. And now he knows whatever this place is hiding has to do with him. He can’t turn back now.

And plus...this is all just a dream, isn’t it?

When he bites into the fruit, the flesh is soft to an almost sickening degree, and the juice bursting out of it is a deep red that spills out over his hands. It’s so sour it almost burns his mouth, and he winces against it. 

As he stumbles back, the ground beneath him shudders, cracks, and shatters like glass.

The void below is endless and suffocating, clinging to his skin despite being nothing at all. It crawls into his eyes, his nose, his throat and lungs, filling all the empty cavities inside him. Desperate to breathe, he swallows it down as it swallows him, tumbling alongside the shards of paradise as they twinkle out one by one. 

And Goro falls away into the darkness.


	2. Don't Think About the Way Things Might Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro has breakfast, considers his future, and meets a familiar stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE REVISED TAGS  
> Basically, there are some brief allusions to suicide in this chapter. You can skip the italicized section to avoid it (skip to "Goro jerks awake..."), but this won't be the last chapter with these themes, and this is probably going to be the mildest instance.

The next morning is overcast, and wakefulness comes heavy and slow.

Goro doesn’t remember dreaming, but something has stayed with him anyway. It lingers on his skin, in his lungs, in a buzzing sense of wrongness in his veins. Slowly, he rolls his head on his pillow over towards the window.

...Probably just the weather after all.

After he drags his arm from underneath the covers, he grabs his phone off the nightstand to check the time. He’s overslept, too. By several hours. Wonderful.

The air in his room is just a little nippy; Mom must have turned the thermostat down again. He’s tempted to scroll through the news from the comfort of his bed, but if he does that, he’ll never get up. And the smell of breakfast reminds him that he’s hungry.

With a world-weary sigh disproportionate to the effort, he flings off the covers and slides his feet into warmer house slippers. For some reason, the action makes him feel just a bit uncomfortable. 

After brushing his teeth (why does his mouth taste so bad?) and throwing on something comfortable, he shuffles into the kitchen, where he can hear his mom at work.

“Morning, sweetheart!” she calls.

“Morning,” he mumbles back, walking in just in time to see Mom pulling out a tray of salted mackerel from the broiler. “Wow, what’s the occasion?”

She gives him a puzzled smile. “What do you mean? You’re here in the morning, isn’t that occasion enough?”

She’s wearing a green dress--a comfortable one for wearing indoors, not dressed up for the rest of the world. Her long brown hair is loosely braided to keep it out of the way, but it often tends to drift to the left until it falls over her shoulder. Tomoko Shido has been praised for her impeccable style when she’s out doing charity work and volunteering, classy yet understated, but Goro secretly has a positive association with this look. It means she’s staying in for the day, and she’s here. They do have someone who comes in once a week to clean the apartment, but this is the look she goes for when she just wants to do a bit of housewifery. “Makes home feel more like home,” she once explained to him.

He smiles back at her. “Yeah, I guess it has been a little while since we’ve had breakfast together. And even longer since you’ve made it.”

“Exactly.” She smiles and gestures to the table as she transfers the salted fish to a pair of plates. “You look like you’re in desperate need of some coffee, too.”

He opens his mouth to argue that he doesn’t look _that_ bad, but his protests are immediately hijacked by a yawn. “...Possibly,” he admits, pulling out a chair and plopping heavily into it.

She smiles knowingly--she always knows when he’s pushing himself--and goes to the coffee maker. “Maybe we should have gotten you an espresso machine for graduation,” she jokes as she fills the carafe with water. 

Goro gives a small huff of amusement. “Well, my birthday isn't too far away now.”

Once the coffee maker is on, she picks up the plates and brings them over to the table, setting one in front of him along with a pair of chopsticks, a small bowl of rice, some fruit, and rolled egg omelet. She pulls out her chair and sits down, turning it to the side so she can get up easily.

Goro presses his hands together. “Thanks,” he says before picking up the chopsticks.

Mom does the same. “So,” she says after a couple of bites. “How is Niijima-san?”

For one frightening moment, he thinks she means Sae, and he wonders how she could have found out about the internship so quickly--but no, she's referring to the younger sister. “Oh, she’s fine,” he replies. “She's going to Tokyo University. Studying law.”

“Following in her sister’s footsteps, I see.”

“Mm-hmm.” Goro is not really in the mood to talk about Niijimas or following in people’s footsteps.

“What about Okumura-san?”

“Business school,” he replies. “Presumably to prepare for inheriting Okumura Foods. She’s already helping her father with a new location in Kichijoji.”

She gives a little smile. “I’m so glad you made some good friends this year, Goro. And those connections will serve you well in the future, I’m sure.”

Again, the topic is drifting somewhere he doesn’t want it to go. “...Yeah. I’m sure they will.” She wasn’t wrong, though; he had first reached out to them with the intention of using those connections himself. 

A silence falls, and Goro quickly grasps for something to fill it. But Mom beats him to the punch.

“You know, when I was making this,” she says, pointing at her fish with her chopsticks, “I thought about my first attempt at making shioyaki for us. Do you remember?”

Goro smirks a little bit. “Not specifically, but I can imagine.”

“Not only did I misread the amount of salt, but I left it in way too long. It was awful.” She rests an elbow on the table. “But you didn’t complain at all because you didn’t want me to feel bad. I had no idea how terrible it was until I took a bite myself, and by then you were already halfway finished.” She reached over and ruffled his hair a little. “You’ve always been my little hero.”

“Mom…” Goro complains at being treated like a child, aware of just how childish he sounds as he does. Finger combing his hair back into submission, he furrows his brows a little. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“Mm, maybe I’m just feeling a little nostalgic,” she says. “You’re all grown up now. Who knows how many more days we’ll get to spend like this?”

Something twinges in his chest at that. “...I’m not going anywhere just yet, Mom.”

“No, I suppose not,” she replies. 

In the silence that follows, they hear the coffee maker sputtering out, and he gets up to pour a cup. After he adds the milk, he takes a test sip. Still that strange, bitter edge. Maybe it’s just the machine, and there’s no way to get good coffee out of it.

\------

After a long and leisurely breakfast, it’s time to quit stalling.

With a heavy sigh, Goro drops into his desk chair, drags out his laptop, and opens it just in time to see a notification alerting him to Sae-san’s reply. 

_Shido-kun,_

_I’m sorry to hear you won’t be joining us, but I completely understand. Your help has been truly invaluable, and I’m sure you can find success no matter what you do. If you ever need a recommendation, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m happy to support you in any way I can._

_Best regards,_

_Sae Niijima_

He smiles a little. If Sae-san had a different job, he would probably jump at the chance to keep working with her. 

But she doesn't, and he won't. He opens the desk drawer, but the leatherbound miniature notebook he uses to review case notes doesn’t appear to be in its usual place. After double-checking the surface of his desk, he shrugs and grabs a palm-sized memo pad instead. He always thinks better with a pen and paper.

Unfortunately, he really has no idea where to start.

Thinking back, it’s a little strange that he didn’t graduate with a road map for the future like his peers, especially since his school built its reputation on the prestige of its alumni. He had met with the guidance counselor and taken the career surveys, of course, and she had suggested political science. After that...Goro had never gone to any follow-up meetings. Maybe he was too busy with everything else? He can’t remember why, although the advice was so clearly influenced by his detective work and his family that he doubts it was worth much anyway. 

He does find philosophy interesting, but that isn’t exactly something a teenager fresh out of high school can simply waltz into for a year. They generally pull from students already part of the department for that. And the only future he can see in that is academia, which doesn’t feel practical enough.

After about half an hour of randomly searching the internet, staring at crappy listicles, and checking his social media, he sighs and rubs his temples. The problem, he knows, is that he can only rule out ideas, because he has no idea what he actually wants. And that’s something he’s having trouble facing.

He pushes himself away from the desk, looks up at the ceiling, and makes a decision. He needs to go somewhere where he won’t get distracted, and one place immediately surfaces in his mind. Quiet, out of the way, no wifi, and no customers.

...And, if he’s being honest, he wants to start the day with a real cup of coffee.

He checks the weather and sees that the temperature has dropped considerably since the previous day; spring hasn’t completely shaken off the winter yet. A little rain in the early afternoon. It’s not windy enough for a scarf or hat, but just to be safe, he pulls a warmer coat off the rack and slides his arms into the sleeves.

He decides to take his bike this time, hoping the exercise will get his brain out of this fog. It's a decent ways, enough for him to work up a good sweat and clear his mind.

It doesn’t work, really, as he soon finds his mind instead occupied with scenarios where his father finds out about Sae-san’s offer. The best-case scenario, where it never comes up at all, still has a decent chance. But now that the corruption case is moving to trial, Sae-san and his father will have plenty of opportunities to talk. He needs to assume it's inevitable, and have a plan by then. 

He parks and locks his bike along the edge of the street, and the familiar sound of the bell over Leblanc's door affects him more than he thought it would. He pauses in the entryway for a brief second, inhaling the distinctly comforting smell, before Sakura-san looks up from where he’s busy drying a mug. “Ah. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Goro smiles and lets the door fall shut behind him with another jingle. He crosses the distance to his usual spot, second from the left, and pulls off his coat. In one smooth motion, he drapes it over the back of the worn wooden chair and slides into his seat. “I’m surprised you remember me,” he replies.

“Are you kidding?” Sakura-san laughs. “With you all over the TV during that corruption case, I couldn’t forget you if I wanted to. The usual?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Sakura-san sets about his work, and Goro sets about his, reaching back into his coat for the memo pad and erasable pen. Remembering the days he spent here as a student, his mind naturally wanders to how he did in school. It's somewhere to start, at least.

_Strengths_ _Weaknesses_

History

Crit. thinking

Japanese

English

Math

...Hm. Where does he draw the line? He did well in most of his classes; he had excellent teachers for many of them. For the rest, he simply taught himself the material.

Goro is slightly envious of those who have failed a class; at least _they_ know what they’re bad at. 

Oh, wait.

_Strengths_ _Weaknesses_

History Home Ec

Crit. thinking

Japanese

English

Math

“Watch your elbow,” Boss says, placing a cup next to him.

“Thanks,” Goro replies. He waits a few moments for it to cool before taking a tentative sip. 

And he’s surprised to find it doesn’t taste right at all. 

“Sakura-san, I think it’s been too long since I’ve been here,” he says with a little laugh.

“Oh?” says Sakura-san with some concern. “Did I get it wrong?”

“It’s sweet.”

Sakura-san stares back at him. “And?”

“Well, I don’t usually take my coffee with sugar.”

“It has been a while since you’ve been here, then. I definitely remember your cappuccino with two sugars, because most of my cappuccino drinkers don’t ask for it sweet.” Sakura-san slings his towel over his shoulder and smiles warmly. “And according to the variety shows, you’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Ah…” Goro is about to tell him that he only pretends to, but...why would he? He’s got a whole blog devoted to his adventures at various cafes around Tokyo. As his mind drifts in confusion, his hand automatically lifts the coffee cup for a second sip.

And this one tastes fine. What the hell?

“I’m happy to remake it if you want,” Sakura-san says, perhaps mistaking Goro’s confusion for offense. “Nothing wrong with changing tastes.”

“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” Goro hurries to reassure him. “I’ve been feeling a little strange this morning. I think you’re right; I just forgot that I used to take it with sugar here. Your coffee is always excellent, no matter how it’s prepared.”

“Maybe you should come by more often, then,” Sakura-san jokes. His face softens a bit, looking at Goro. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

\------

The rain starts about an hour after Goro arrives, and he’s the only one there for most of the time. The quiet is nice, but it still doesn’t lead to any breakthroughs as he lists ideas and pros and cons. In fact, he goes in circles until he’s so dizzy and confused he just starts reading one of the books on the counter, hoping maybe taking a break will allow inspiration to strike. Again, he finds his mind wandering to other afternoons spent here. It always felt like he was waiting for something then, too, but he doesn’t know what. 

Then, once the skies have cleared in the late afternoon, Sakura-san gets a call. 

“Hey… Oh, sure. It’s been a slow day anyway. Any requests?... Alright. I’ll let you know when I think I’ll be done. Good luck with everything… Love you, too.”

Goro doesn’t react, because that’s the polite thing to do, but he assumes that was Futaba’s mother. He isn’t sure what her relationship with Sakura-san is, exactly, but he knows Futaba sees them both as parents, and he does have a vague memory of seeing the three of them eating together as a family at Leblanc once.

“Sorry, kid--I’ve been called in for dinner,” Sakura says, reaching for Goro's empty cup and saucer and taking it to the sink.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave, then,” Goro replies with a smile. He closes the book and slides it neatly back in place. “It’s alright. I think I’m done for today, anyway.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Sakura-san replies, walking over to the door, then adds under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to come back to clean up properly.”

“Maybe you should could call Futaba or Morgana,” Goro suggests, more for the sake of conversation than anything as he slides on his coat. "I hear they've been helping out recently."

Sakura-san laughs. "Yeah, well, that was more to keep them out of trouble, so that'll go away once the school year starts. But I'm starting to miss the help."

"Yes, Futaba mentioned that, too. A friend of ours even suggested I replace her." Goro laughs, too.

To his surprise, Sakura-san quirks an eyebrow. "On top of your college work?"

"No, no, I'm not going to college." Immediately, Goro regrets being so blunt. He wishes he'd never started this conversation, actually. But it's too late; now both of Sakura-san's eyebrows are raised. "...I'm taking a gap year," he confesses. "That's what I've been doing here, actually; trying to figure out what to do with my time."

"Well, it can be good to take a breather. Smart kid like you, I'm sure you'll be successful no matter what you do." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "A part-time job at this place is probably beneath you, but if you do find yourself with time on your hands, I wouldn't mind showing you the ropes. Maybe I could even start taking days off."

As much as he enjoys Leblanc, minimum wage at a run-down cafe is not what he had in mind. But Goro is nothing if not a diplomat. "It's kind of you to offer, Sakura-san, and I wouldn't mind learning how to make coffee as good as yours. But I've only been at this for a day, so I'll need to explore other options first."

"Of course. And I'd need to crunch some numbers myself to see a serious offer would look like...but who knows?" Sakura-san replies.

“Well, Futaba should have my number.” Goro steps out into the cold and holds the door for Sakura-san, who is fishing out his keys. “Thank you as always.”

“Likewise. It’s always good to see you, kid.”

Goro walks back to his bike and unlocks it. As he swings his leg over the side, he happens to look up.

_...Leblanc has two stories?_

The realization strikes him with more impact than it should. It’s not the first time he’s walked by something 99 times and only seen it on the 100th, but that’s usually because he’s in a familiar routine and lost in thought. The moment he notices usually brings mild surprise or even amusement, not this kick to the chest. Honestly, the reaction is far stranger than the revelation.

He gazes up at the second floor window for a few moments longer, trying to parse the feeling, but the only explanation he can find is that the coffee is giving him palpitations. It doesn’t really satisfy him, but it’ll have to do.

Lowering his head, he starts pedaling back toward home. He's been thinking too hard today. Maybe he just needs to sleep on it.

\------

_The air in the bathhouse is thick and heavy with steam._

_He’s sitting in front of a small mirror, washing his hair with plenty of shampoo like he’s supposed to. His bangs keep trying to fall into his eyes; they've been getting too long, and Mom wants to take him to get it a haircut. But she’ll probably just cut it herself, like she always does. He likes it better when she does it, anyway._

_The mirror is foggy and streaked with water, but he can still catch glimpses of himself in it. Of his too-small body and too-long hair and too-tired eyes. If the mirror were clear, he’d avoid looking at it at all._

_He grabs the showerhead and rinses his hair until he can’t feel any bubbles, then heads to the bath._

_No other kids today, as far as he can see, and he’s glad for it. By and large, the grown-ups aren't paying him much mind, either, except for one older man who scowls a bit at seeing an unaccompanied child. Goro decides to get in the same tub as him, just to prove that he belongs here as much as anyone else. Maybe the old jerk will even leave.  
_

_He tests the water with his foot, and it’s a little hotter than he would like. But that’ll just make today more of a challenge. As he lets the heat envelop his legs, he looks over toward the clock. He made it all the way until it was time to go home last time; let’s see if he can do it again._

_He can feel the water circulating around him, but the surface is clear and still. The silhouette of his reflection is there again._

_He plays with focusing on his hands beneath the water, then on his reflection on the surface--and then on the distortions as the surface ripples and shifts._

_And shifts into something completely different._

_His mother._

_She has a nearly empty bottle next to her elbow, and she’s in the middle of draining a glass. Her face is worn, her eyes are hollow, and the paint on her nails is chipped. She sighs and sets down the glass with a heavy thunk._ _As she stands up unsteadily, her arm knocks the bottle off the edge of the table, and she curses. Fortunately, it only hits the carpet, but getting down to pick it up is clearly difficult for her. When she finally retrieves it, she looks at the remaining mouthful, sighs, and knocks it back before chucking the bottle into the recycling bin._

_Goro doesn't want to watch this, but even when he tries to turn his head away, he can't see anything else. Something terrible is going to happen. He can feel it, like something squeezing in his chest. There’s something she’s not supposed to do when she’s like this._

_She stumbles into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet._

Stop. _Goro wants to call out to her, but he knows she wouldn't hear him. He wants to get up and run to her, but the water is holding him down, and the steam is suffocating._

_So he dives into the scalding pool instead._

_He can see her there in front of him still, even with his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Something wraps around his ankle, trying to pull him up, but he kicks against it to swim down further, and further, until his lungs are burning and the light around him is gone._

_But he’s so close; he must be close. He reaches out and tries to scream, but the sound is pathetically weak in the water._

_He can’t see her anymore._

_“Goro.”_

_It’s her voice, wrapping around him like a cool, soothing current against his skin. She's here with him.  
_

_The hand around his ankle moves up and pulls him into an embrace. She's here with him because he pulled her down.  
_

_“I love you.”_

_He never could have saved her, he realizes. All he can do is drag her deeper into the abyss. The only way to save her was not to exist._

_But he leans into her arms anyway. At least she won’t drown alone._

_\------_

Goro jerks awake with a gasp, his heart pounding in his ears.

Once again, he’s in Leblanc, in his usual seat. He takes a few deep breaths to calm down.

Again, he briefly wonders if he simply fell asleep at the counter--but no, he definitely left. He remembers going outside.

And looking up.

He leans back and checks to the right, and sure enough--the back wall isn’t where it normally is. How did he forget to check when he was there today?

Still a little shaky from his dream, Goro slides out of his seat and goes to investigate again.

He can’t really remember what happened at the top of the stairs last night--even the nightmare he just had is already fading--but he knows it was important. He stands at the bottom and peers up at the seemingly endless staircase, trying to see the top, but all that’s there is darkness. 

Again, climbing the stairs doesn’t really feel like moving upwards--more like walking on a treadmill as someone slowly turns up the lights. Brighter, brighter, brighter, until he can barely see, and he stumbles when his foot finds a landing instead of another step beneath it.

He squints and instinctively tries to shield his eyes from above, but that doesn’t exactly work when the light is coming from everywhere. Instead, he has to wait a few moments to adjust. 

And he does adjust, which is actually a little surprising. 

He steps out into the white, seemingly infinite space, and notices exactly one anomaly hovering ahead of him and a little to his right--a mirror. 

He walks right up to it, noticing that his reflection is wearing his school uniform. He looks down, and so is he. Interesting. He’s quite sure this is a dream by now, and he absently wonders why he would be a high schooler again. What is this reflecting? Why is it here?

This is all a dream, so figuring this out may just be a matter of willing his mental world to cooperate. 

He steps back to observe further, and notices this time that the bottom of the mirror is flush with the floor. If anything, it looks more like a doorway with a reflective surface. If this dreamworld complies with logic (which is a shaky premise, granted), he could take this as a sign that something is behind it. He presses his palm flat against the side and pushes; perhaps it rotates.

No luck.

He tries spinning it around a horizontal axis next, but it doesn’t work. Breaking it? A good kick just hurts his knee, but...did he hear something?

He gives it another kick--gentler this time--and sure enough, there’s a bit of a hollow echo. There’s definitely something there.

It reminds him, in fact, of a particularly unpleasant case involving a sleazy hotel owner and blackmail. 

He leans in as close as he can and cups his hands around his eyes to shut out as much light as possible.

Sure enough--his reflection fades, and he can just make out the murky, distorted shapes of something else. The mirror is one-way.

He’s not eager to try breaking it again; it felt as solid as a brick wall. But a one-way mirror is most effective when the side being observed is brightly lit. If he wants to see the other side, the only way is to turn out the lights.

The problem is that he doesn’t even know how to begin to do that. There’s no shadow in this place; everything is flat and featureless and disorienting. He's not sure darkening a realm made of light is even possible

Is there anything behind the mirror, at least? He reaches out into the light next to it and feels only empty space, so he steps forward and leans around to see the back, which looks to simply be a mirror on the reverse side, too--and bangs his head against something invisible.

“What the--”

Pressing a hand against his head, he tries reaching out again, a little further this time, and feels something cool and glasslike. As he traces his fingers along the surface, he occasionally encounters raised features, running vertically and horizontally. It feels a bit like a...windowpane?

So there _are_ things in this room; he just can’t see them. Like everything is emitting white light to create the inverse of total darkness.

Well...if this _is_ a normal room with windows, then...maybe there’s a light switch?

Feeling a bit silly, Goro keeps his right hand on the window-wall and holds his left out in front of him, inching forward until something digs into his thigh. The surface is flat and worn and rough--a desk or table of some sort. He skirts around it and finds another wall in front of him and another obstacle on his left. This one has cushions--a sofa?

_Am I in an office? Someone’s room?_

After making his way past another table and some shelves, almost back to the stairs, he finds what he’s looking for when it smacks him right between the eyes.

“Ow!”

The pull chain startled him more than hurt, but Goro still yanks it a little harder than necessary in revenge.

And, just as he hoped, the room goes dark.

 _Everything_ goes dark.

As bright as the light was before, the darkness is just as deep and featureless. In fact, it’s even worse, because now he can no longer see himself. The floor just seems like an impossibly thin sheet of glass separating him from the lightless void of space.

His stomach flips again, and just for a second, he wonders if he _is_ falling after all. But then his eyes fix on the doorway, and a light beyond it--a single pale, shimmering point, like the only star on a moonless night.

He can’t see anything around him, but he simply trusts that it’s there as he follows the guiding light. And this time, when he presses against it, his hand passes through as easily as a curtain of water. He steps forward and through, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh.

When the lights first disappeared, he couldn’t make out any of the other details beyond the mirror, but as his eyes finish adjusting to the other side, he sees his star is an enormous antique chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling above a huge open lobby. The plush carpet beneath his feet is a faded red, running from wall to wall and up the staircases on either side to the second floor balcony. Below the balcony are small supportive archways, and he can see behind them multiple sets of wooden double doors. On his left, there’s a sort of reception window, although it’s dark and covered with a grate. A slightly tarnished brass sign above it reads “Will Call.”

_...A theater?_

The floor creaks a little as Goro steps over to peek in the locked window, but that lead doesn’t seem especially promising. The counter is covered with a layer of dust, and the smell around him is just a little musty. For now, he decides to try the doors to the main stage.

...Which are solidly locked.

Hm.

Well, he won’t give up on doors until he’s tried all of them at least, but they’re all shut tight. One pair even looks like someone tried to shoot the lock out already, with several holes around the handles and one sizeable dent in the lock itself. But it doesn’t even budge.

Ironically, the less conspicuous door labeled “Staff, Crew, and Performers” is the only one that _is_ unlocked.

_Well, better than nothing. Maybe this is a hall to the backstage area._

...But if it is, it’s a very strange one.

The red carpet continues along the floor, and the walls are covered with a red-and-gold themed vintage wallpaper. But for no reason Goro can discern, the hall is lined with mirrors framed like portraits. 

“I’m detecting a theme,” he scoffs aloud, for the benefit of no one in particular.

The dream is remarkably detailed and coherent, though, and he wonders what significance it holds. Although dreams usually seem coherent while you’re in them. Perhaps deciphering the meaning is best left to his waking mind.

He absently reaches into his coat for his notebook. This would be fascinating to go over later--

_Wait. It was here the whole time?_

Goro pulls out the elusive leatherbound diary, along with the pen hooked to it, then rolls his eyes and thumbs it open. He really should have learned by now to always check coat pockets, especially in the jackets he’s recently stopped using...

_Dreamworld_

_Begins in Leblanc_

_Stairs up to second floor; only light or dark. Can’t see._

_One-way mirror_

_Abandoned theater??_

_Lots of mirrors_

That’s about as far as he gets when he remembers the notebook is part of the dream, too, and he’s just as likely to forget anything he’s written there as the dream itself. Sheepishly, he shoves it back into his coat. It was worth a shot.

Now he just needs to see where this hall leads. 

He walks by the first mirror--then startles and walks back in reverse until he’s standing in front of it again. The figure in the glass is moving along with him, but instead of a reflection of himself, he sees...Ann Takamaki?

Her face is wearing the same vague bemusement he feels. He gives an experimental wave, and Ann waves back in perfect sync. He leans in, and upon closer inspection, he realizes the scenery behind her is different, too. Instead of the hallway, he sees a dim, wavering facsimile of a school rooftop. Shujin’s, probably. It’s like a living painting made of smoke.

Tentatively, he lays a palm against the glass, and he feels a bit of give beneath it as faint ripples disturb the image. He pushes harder, but unlike before, he’s unable to push through. With a little sigh, Goro presses his lips together in disappointment, and as he looks up to meet her eyes, he absently wonders if he’s ever seen her without a smile. It’s a little disconcerting.

He steps back and turns his body before finally breaking eye contact with her. It’s silly to think she would keep looking at him after he tears his eyes away. 

...If ghosts were real, though, this would be an excellent place to haunt.

As he proceeds down the hall, he examines each mirror as he goes by, and sure enough, each one reflects someone different, against a different hazy background. Some of them he recognizes--Sakura-san, Sae-san, assorted members of the Phantom Thieves--and some of them he doesn’t. One that really gives him pause is Toranosuke Yoshida. He’s a fairly famous philanthropist, yes, but what’s he doing enshrined in Goro’s subconscious?

Near the end of the hall, he finds the oddest one of all--a mirror with no reflection at all. He leans in to try the one-way mirror trick again, but he sees nothing. _Hmm…_

That’s when he feels something cold press against the back of his head.

“Don’t move.”

Goro’s heart jumps into his mouth. 

“What are you?” the stranger asks.

“...Not ‘who’?” Goro replies. Snark isn’t his usual response to being threatened, but his curiosity found words the fastest.

“I know _who_ you are,” the voice replies tersely. “What matters is _what_ you are. And how you got here.”

As the person keeps talking, however, Goro feels something strangely familiar about the voice. He knows he’s heard it before, but his mind is mostly occupied with staying alive. And on that front, unfortunately, he can’t even begin to guess what kind of answer might be right or wrong, so he decides to go with the truth.

“I’m...human?” he offers tentatively. “And I don’t know where this is or how I got here either. A dream, I think.”

“A dream…,” his assailant muses. After an agonizingly long silence, he finally says, “I see.” The gun leaves his head.

Goro turns around and realizes what was so familiar about the voice.

It was his own.

A near-perfect doppelganger is standing in front of him, still holding a handgun with a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel. But that isn't the only thing that sets them apart.

The most obvious difference is their clothes--this one is dressed for colder weather, wearing Goro’s dark green sweater vest and jeans, along with a pair of gloves. The difference Goro finds most off-putting, however, is his expression. His eyes are cold and sharp, and his lips are pressed together with disdain.

“What...are you, then?” Goro asks.

Not-Goro rolls his eyes in thought, and speaks slowly. “I suppose...you can call me a memory."

“You suppose?”

“I suppose that’s the easiest way for a wide-eyed idiot to understand it."

So his counterpart is both cryptic _and_ rude. Goro likes him less and less. “...Try me.” _Asshole,_ he doesn’t say to the boy who has a gun.

“If you don’t have at least some idea of where you are or what I am, then I suspect the information would be wasted on you.” Not-Goro smirks. “Someone wanted you this way very badly, after all." There’s an undercurrent of furious laughter that leaves Goro even more unsettled, but he’s mostly just pissed off now.

“...Then I assume there’s no need for introductions,” Goro replies, failing to keep all the sarcasm from his voice. “Shall we call each other Goro, then? Or will we have to battle it out to determine which one is Goro Prime?”

Not-Goro presses his lips together. “...I’ll stick with Akechi. If it's all the same to you.”

“Akechi?”

The name is like a key in the lock of his memory, and several fleeting impressions escape, rushing past him like bats escaping a cave. He only manages to catch one before it’s gone: _“Don’t do this to yourself, Akechi-kun.”_

Has he dreamed about this before? That's a name he hasn't thought about in a long time--and if it's shown up in his dreams more than once, he has a feeling it could be the biggest clue he's had so far about...whatever the hell this means.

“Something the matter?” Akechi asks.

“Don’t tell me you were inspired by Ko- _goro_ Akechi?” 

When he started involving himself in police work, he had briefly considered using a pseudonym to avoid making the connection to his father overly obvious. Any gaffe on his part would reflect poorly on his career, after all. But the thought hadn’t lasted more than an evening; his paper trail would lead back to his family quickly enough, and covering it up would take more effort than it was worth. Still, he had only written off the idea after he started brainstorming possibilities--the first of which was the name the boy had just given, inspired by the famous fictional detective with a similar first name to his.

Akechi’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “Technically. Although I tend to associate the name with Mitsuhide, myself.”

Yes, and that was part of the reason Goro had quickly crossed that one off the list. As the son of a powerful political figure, he didn’t exactly want to invoke the name of the traitor who ended Oda Nobunaga’s efforts to unify Japan under his rule. 

But as Akechi watches him with something close to pity, Goro wonders why his dream self would embrace the name so wholly. Maybe this is a version of himself from an alternate timeline, wandering here through his dreams, too.

He snorts in spite of himself. _Yes, you’ve cracked it, detective. You actually live in the worst Featherman movie ever made._

“What’s so funny?” 

“Oh--nothing. Life imitates art, as they say.”

Confusion flashes across Akechi's face, but it quickly sublimates back into the withering disgust from before. “No, it doesn’t. This isn’t Featherman."

Goro is impressed his doppelganger is able to follow his thought patterns so closely, but maybe he shouldn't be. 

"And...," Akechi continues, "if my name is so funny to you, yours must be...something else?” There’s a tightness, an uncharacteristic tremble to his voice in the last two words.

Goro stares back at him for a moment. Maybe he really is from another timeline--how could he not know his own real name? “It’s Shido. Goro Shido.”

The moment he hears the answer, Akechi’s eyes go wide and almost blank. In the next, his expression shifts into a sort of smile--soft, distant, cold as glass. Goro wonders if he's going to start laughing, but instead, he raises the pistol in one smooth motion, and puts three bullets into the wall a few feet away from Goro’s head. It happens so fast Goro doesn’t even process what’s happening until his arms are halfway up to his head to protect himself. As he sees the smoke rising from the barrel, even if this is a dream, he realizes he's now truly, genuinely afraid.

Several long seconds pass between them, and Akechi’s arm slowly falls to his side. “I’m not calling you that,” he finally says, flat and lifeless. “Get out.”

"What?"

Fury blazes up in Akechi's eyes, and he raises the gun again. This time, he's not aiming at the wall. "I will repeat myself only once." His voice is dangerously even. "Get. Out."

Without another word, Goro takes a few steps backward, then runs for the exit, half-expecting to get shot in the back on the way there.

He hears nothing behind him, but he runs straight through the mirror and into the black void. Something deeper, more visceral than the fear of death is driving him. Mercifully, the entrance to the stairs is the one thing aside from the mirror he can see, if only faintly.

Just like when he was ascending, going down the stairs feels like he's on a treadmill while someone turns up the lights around him, but this time, it's bringing him back to the realm of consciousness. Little by little, he's waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Once again, thank you so much for reading, and thank you to everyone who left me a comment or a kudos!!
> 
> In case anyone is interested, Tomoko's name is written with the kanji 智子, and that first character is the same as the second character of 明智 (Akechi). In my AU-world, anyway. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for reading all the way to the end of this chapter!
> 
> This is the kind of fic that really needs to have more written than I’ve given it before you post chapter 1, but it’s 2020, we all have depression, and if I don’t get the motivation boost from achievable short-term goals I WILL go mad. (And given how long this took, this definitely won't get written.)
> 
> So I guess what that means is that I am leaving open the possibility that I will go back and edit this as I progress further. Especially seeing as this is my first P5 fic, and I'm going in guns blazing apparently.


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